


Head Held High

by genVicron



Category: Bionicle - All Media Types
Genre: Also why do I do this to her it HURTS, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I have some feelings about my zealot girl, If stuff doesn't line up with canon it's cause my headcanons are getting in the way, Miserix was the Worst Dad, Other, POV Second Person, Super pre-canon, but you'll have to pry those from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 19:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17065364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genVicron/pseuds/genVicron
Summary: Was it as frightening as the stories said in Gorast's keep?  They asked you.  What sort of Rahi monsters did she keep?  Were there any prisoners or Rahkshi in jars?“No, nothing like any of that, mostly it’s just…" long, empty corridors with empty rooms coated in dust and silence, "lonely.”You can only watch as Gorast falls apart.





	Head Held High

**Author's Note:**

> Gorast is a character defined by Duty, Devotion, and Desperation above anything else. I always wondered how someone who lived by Duty like her ended up on Teridax' side, considering her Duty would have been to protect the Matoran Universe. This is a one-shot story of someone seeing the pieces that make up her fall, but not being close enough to see it happen or stop it.

The Toa were dead, you had seen it, they’d died defending you, defending the city.  She had let them die before she’d stepped in.

 

You didn’t know why that surprised you.  She was a Makuta, they were heartless. Proud and cruel enforcers to the Toa’s noble defenders.

 

You didn’t know why you were surprised by the ruthless efficiency she’d killed the Dark Hunters who’d bested the Toa with.  Makuta Gorast was known for her terrifying prowess in battle above all else.

 

Yet, you were still surprised, that you would see these facts played out right in front of you.  She had stepped in to protect you once the Toa had fallen, it was her job, to protect Matoran like you from threats the Toa could not.

 

Knowing this didn’t stop you from quaking in fear as she turned back to face you, the Dark Hunter’s blood still cooling on her claws.  She held her head high, her golden eyes hard, narrowed at you for a moment before she began striding closer. Part of you wanted to run, but terror was making it hard to breathe, much less pull yourself upright in the ruins of what had once been your home.

 

She stood over you, she was so much taller than anyone you’d ever seen before, yet she was whip-thin, with a dynamic, serpentine grace and features that had made her seem like a single, fluid blade in her fight but now served to make her loom over you like a predator.

 

She almost seemed to fold in on herself as she crouched in front of you, still a good head and a half taller than any Matoran you’d met.  Her gaze was still firm, but the edge of it had left. Her four arms weaved together into two and you jumped as she offered you one.

 

“Are you hurt?”  She asked, her voice wasn’t anything you would ever classify as soft, as forceful as her movements and proud as her bearing; but it wasn’t the rasping, disdainful scoff you would have expected from a Makuta, from a killer like her.

 

She cocked her head after a few moments of still silence and your eyes caught on the fangs jutting up on either side of her snout.  You shivered and decided it would be better to stand on your own. You didn’t want her to have a grip on you.

 

“I-I’m alright,” you stammered.  Her expression twitched in a way you couldn’t read and that edge to her gaze returned as she retracted her offered hand.  You glanced behind her, the Toa sat still, eyes vacant in death, heartstone dark. You felt yourself puff up a little with the desire to shout, to scream at her for being so late to act, for standing aside while heroes had died for _you._

 

You looked back to her and fear stayed your voice again.  She looked back at the dead Toa, her mouth set in a grimace.

 

“Understood,” she growled as she stood back to her full height.  “Do you have somewhere to go?” You looked around you, your throat closing up and tears stinging at your eyes as you take in your ruined possessions, even if they rebuild the building, you’ve lost everything that made this place home.  You shook your head silently.

 

She looked down at you with another unreadable expression and crouched down at your side again.  She pressed a hand to the top of your head and you froze for a moment, terrified she’ll just snap your neck.  A Matoran without a home was a Matoran without a job, it crashed down on you that until they got this place rebuilt you were useless, worse than useless.  She could kill you and it would be weeks before anyone cared, longer before anyone suspected it had been anyone but the Dark Hunters. The horror stories of what Makuta Teridax had done in Metru Nui to settle the civil war swarmed to the front of your mind.

 

Instead of giving her hand a harsh twist and ending you she just rubbed over the top of your Kanohi.  It wasn’t gentle, nothing about her could be called gentle, but it wasn’t the hard, callous touch you’d expected, it was grounding, stalwart, almost soothing in your surprise.  “I’ll give you a place to stay until they rebuild, come on.” And in a daze, you obeyed.

  
\----  


Her keep, for there was little else you could call it but a keep, on the edge of the great Protodermis Sea was less… ominous, than you’d expected.  The shadows around it stretched long in the overlarge doorways, almost seeming to reach for her along some corners, but the effect reminded more of sunset than the dank, foreboding cavern you’d heard stories about.  It was clean, the same familiar metal and polish smell of the city filled the air instead of mildew and rust. It was quiet, no unfathomable whispers from the dark, no unspeakable creatures roaming the halls. Mostly it was just... empty, and a little cold.

 

She didn’t speak much to you as she lead you through the halls.  She pointed out exits and elevators, making sure you’d be able to find your way around and such, but idle conversation seemed to hold no interest for her at the moment.

 

“This will be your room,” she said, finally opening one of the doors into a sparsely furnished space.  It was bigger than your old bedroom had been, which only served to make it seem even more empty. You looked to her and nodded sheepishly, she studied you for another long moment.  “Decorate however you like, just take it with you when you leave. If you need anything, ask, I’m at the end of the hall.” You looked around the room again, then back to her.

 

“Why are you doing this?”  You asked. She glanced away, that same unreadable look passing across her face.

 

“There are no Toa left, it’s my job to do what they can’t.”  She shrugged, her voice raising into a slight snarl, “they can’t do anything right now.”  She gestured to the bed, drawing your eyes away from her furrowed brow, “lay down, settling in’ll be easier for you once you’ve rested.”

 

You watched her as she walked away down the hall to the room she said was hers.  Her hands opened and closed as she walked, her shoulders shaking slightly. Her head stayed high, her eyes stayed forwards.

 

Exhaustion hit you all at once and you were in the bed almost before you’d finished closing the door.

  
\----  


When you woke there was almost no light coming in through the window, the dead of night.  It was so quiet, the only sound your breathing. You shivered and sat up, trying to coax your heartstone brighter, how could Gorast stand this silence, even in the night?

 

Back home there was always something moving, the rumble of industry in the distance, or the quiet shuffle on the street outside.  The sound of people, always. This was suffocating, you’d never felt so alone as you did in the dark, huddled in on yourself. You needed something, anything, to break this silence, it felt like the walls were closing in.

 

Moving off your bed you felt your way over to the door.  This was stupid, but you couldn’t stand the quiet. You felt your way down the hall, and as you did you noticed something.  There was a sound coming from behind her door, rhythmic and low. It helped you calm yourself, soothing and steady.

 

You still hesitated when you knocked.  The dark grew close and heavy around you in the moment before you heard an irritated huff from beyond the door.  As Gorast opened it with a Lightstone in hand she looked down at you with no small measure of irritation, but as she looked past you into the empty hall it melted into a sort of understanding.  She set her jaw and huffed.

 

“I forgot to open the window?”  She asked and you twitched in surprise before nodding.

 

She sighed, “can’t stand it when the windows are closed.”  She strode past you with sure steps and you hurried to keep up.  “This place is too quiet.” She undid a latch towards the top of your window and it swung open.  The dependable rhythm of the ocean outside filled the room and you felt a knot in your shoulders come undone.

 

She gave you another pat on the head on her way out of the room, “I’m just down the hall.”  She dropped the Lightstone on a desk next to the door and closed it behind her. You stared at it for a moment.  She didn’t like the quiet either, and yet she lived out here, in a keep far from the city, on the edge of the sea.

 

You felt your brow furrow.  Somehow her telling you where she’d be set you at ease, you weren’t alone here, no matter how it might feel.

 

You shook your head, she was a Makuta, it was probably a trick.

 

You still slept easily.

  
\----  


Living with Gorast was an odd affair to be sure.  As the days passed she didn’t talk much, and when she did it was clipped and functional, like she was more used to taking notes to remind herself of things than she was talking to people.

 

Yet she was always somewhere nearby, a solid pillar on the periphery.  Sometimes you followed _her_ around.  She had a lab- quiet as the rest of the building if it weren’t for the open window- where she made small creatures.  Little rodent and reptile rahi that scampered and sometimes helped fix things.

 

She spoke more in the lab than anywhere else, asking you to fetch things for her, giving instructions on how to monitor certain things while she was busy with others, and taking down her thoughts in a voice recorder instead of on a tablet.  You supposed that’s where her speech pattern came from. You wouldn’t say acting as her assistant was really “fun” per-se, but it was nice. The physical part of the work was simple and made you feel productive, and she would smile at you when you did a good job, which did odd yet enjoyable things to your image of her.

 

She insisted you come along with her when she went back into the city to help with repairing the damage from the Dark Hunter’s raid.  You obeyed as much out of curiosity as out of fear for what she might do if you refused.

 

A few of the Matoran you used to work with approached you to ask what the Makuta’s keep was like.  Was it as frightening as the stories said? What sort of Rahi monsters did she keep? Were there any prisoners or Rahkshi in jars?

 

“No, nothing like any of that,” you’d told them, “mostly it’s just…” long, empty corridors with dozens of empty rooms coated in dust and silence, “lonely.”  They’d started looking at you oddly and murmuring amongst themselves after that, and you’d been glad when work ended for the day.

  
\----  


One evening, your last in her keep, she’d gone around closing all the windows, even the one in your room.

 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, “boss likes it quiet.”

 

“Boss?”  You asked, and the look she shot you felt wrong on her face.  She looked strained with worry, almost afraid for a moment before she schooled it back into a vague disinterest.

 

“Miserix,” she said as she stepped past you and back out of the room.

 

Miserix?   _The_ Makuta was coming here?  Why? You mind raced for a moment but it stilled at the thought of the look on her face.  She wasn’t well, Miserix frightened her. Sturdy, proud, immovable Gorast was afraid of him.  Something in your stomach lurched, she was going to face him alone, had been facing him alone.  You swallowed, she wouldn’t this time, this time she would have a friend.

 

You followed her down into the main hall to wait at the door.  She gave you a quizzical glance but nodded towards a nearby hallway.  You only obeyed in going far enough that you couldn’t be seen from the door.  A smile twitched at her face but dropped as the shadows deepened. The whispering from the stories began, indecipherable and chilling.  The door opened and he strode in, The Makuta.

 

Miserix towered almost twice Gorast’s height, scarlet eyes burned behind a black mask with gaping fangs framing the mouth and a swooping, three pointed crown, glaring balefully down at her as he lumbered into the building.  He carried himself like an enormous reptilian ape, with a staff clutched in one of his fists.

 

“Welcome, my Lord Makuta.”  Gorast kneeled before him, her head down for the first time you’ve ever seen.

 

Her submission was met with a rumbling, disdainful scoff.  His voice was like an avalanche, you found yourself trembling as he spoke.

 

“Gorast, I’ve heard troubling things about you.”  He spat, stepping closer and almost bringing the base of his staff down on one of her feet.  Gorast flinched and you felt sick.

 

“I’m-”

 

“You do not have **permission** to speak yet, Gorast,” the way he said it felt wrong and familiar all at once.  Like her name was an insult, a foul word. “You have overstepped your bounds, makuta.”  He stalked around her, the same derision piled on the word Makuta as had been on her name.  “You demean yourself and the Brotherhood both with your charity. You demean **me**.  Reconstruction is the job of Toa and Matoran, not,” he shoved her and she was sent sprawling onto the floor, “a makuta.”

 

He stood over her a moment as she rose, her head still down, not meeting his gaze.  “Speak.”

 

“M-my duty is to do what Toa cannot,” her voice trembled and something in your chest clenched.  “There are no Toa in this city right now, so I must act as substitute.” Gorast’s shoulders began to set themselves into the proud bearing you’ve become familiar with, then Miserix laughs.  It’s cruel, long and booming; and every second it goes on the regal curve of her back bends a little more. Quietly collapsing in on herself under the onslaught.

 

Panic gripped your heartstone and you waved frantically from your spot.  Her eyes flicked to you and she straightened, something kindling behind her eyes.  You mouthed the words to her, ‘you are not alone.’

 

“Your _duty,_ girl, is to kill.”  He finally sneered at her, leaning in close to force her to meet his gaze.  “You are a murderer, before you are anything else.” Gorast’s eyes flicked back down and you saw her hands clench at her sides.  “Did you think that now, with the Toa out of the way, if you helped them repair what was broken, if you sheltered them, that they would forget it?”

 

“No,” her voice was surer this time, Miserix’ sneer deepened.

 

“Then that they would forgive you?”  Some of the familiar steel in Gorast’s eyes came back at that.

 

“No.”

 

“What about your new pet?”  Miserix’ eyes narrowed as the steel fled from her.  “Ah,” his voice grew softer and it was somehow worse than him yelling.  “You poor, confused girl. You thought if you were kind to them, if you made it look like this was more than just a job, that you cared, _could_ care, they would stay with you in this cold, empty castle.”  Gorast’s shoulders came up around the sides of her head, like she was trying to disappear between them.

 

He settled one of his enormous hands under her chin, forcing her to look at him again as his expression softened.  “You know this cannot be, Gorast,” the way he said her name then almost made you gag, it’s familiar, tender, almost _kind_ \- like he _cared_ , like he wanted what was best for her when he so obviously _didn’t_ \- and the way she trembled when he said it was vile beyond anything- like she believed it.  “They are Matoran, you are Makuta, it is as much their nature to fear you as it is yours to be beyond them.”

 

He stepped past her, breaking her gaze and it’s like she’s a puppet with her strings cut, kneeling back to the floor.  “None of them can accept _you_ , with your hands as bloodstained and vile as they are, not truly.”  He stood over her, casting her in his looming shadow. “Not like the Brotherhood, not like me.”  He let out a long, put-upon sigh and placed a hand on her back, she went still as he held it there, so still you couldn’t tell if she was breathing and you couldn’t sit by and watch this anymore.

 

“That’s not true!”  You shouted, stepping out of the hall.  Gorast’s eyes flashed with panic as she looked up at you, but you found yourself devoured by the wrath of Miserix’ glare.  “I-it’s not-” your voice cut out as he began to move towards you, his enormous frame seeming to swallow the room as he moved closer.  His claws came to bear and you found yourself rooted in place, fear freezing you even as you wished to Mata Nui you could run.

 

Suddenly Gorast was there, standing tall and proud as she always had.  Her arms outspread to shield you from him. He stared her down for a long moment, she didn’t move, her stance sure, her head high, her eyes forwards.  His eyes narrowed.

 

“They will betray you,” he finally spoke, tracing a scratch across his enormous chestplate, his voice still carrying that terrible soft tone.  “They always do…”

 

When he spoke again it was with the hard growl it had been before, but somehow that didn’t do anything to set you at ease.  “So this is an order, Gorast. For your own good; you will send them,” he pointed at you, “away, before I return in two days time.”

 

He turned and began lumbering back to the door, “do not disappoint me **again** , or there will be consequences.”  The door slammed on the way out, shaking dust out of the frame.  You let out a breath of relief too soon and when you looked up at her she wasn’t looking back down at you.

 

“The repairs on your home will be finished tonight, you leave first thing in the morning.”  She said, her voice flat and distant.

 

“But-”

 

“No excuses,” she walked away, “kept you too long as is.”

 

She let you find your own way home in the morning.

  
\----  


After that night you realized all the little things that compounded what Miserix had said to her.  Found yourself listening closer to the hushed, foul things the other Matoran said about the Makuta while you worked.  They said her name the same way Miserix had growled it, like a curse. You noticed the frightened glances they shot her way whenever she showed herself, and the almost hateful glares that would be levied at her back.  Some of them were directed at you from time to time now, since you had spent a week under her care.

 

Yet, somehow, she kept her head held high, her stride sure, and her eyes ahead.  When even standing next to the baleful attention was enough to make you want to curl up and disappear, she wore pride on her sleeve.  She had her duty, she did it, and whatever anyone else thought of her, that was reason enough to wear her mask like a grand crown.

 

Watching her more carefully, you had never realized how hard it must have been to keep that pride, to remain unbowed under the weight of other’s judgement, especially when it so mirrored that demon Miserix'.  How strong she must be, to not have snapped under the pressure entirely.

  
\----  


Thousands of years later, the last time you saw her, she had.

 

You didn’t know what had happened, no one did.  There had been a scream, so loud the entire city had heard it, like something out of a nightmare.  Some friend you had turned out to be, it had been so long since you heard her voice that you didn’t recognize it as hers.

 

The Toa were gone, and the city was burning.  There was confusion, running, and you tripped.  As you scrambled back to you feet you heard measured, forceful steps behind you.

 

As you turned you were met with Gorast, she looked different, so vastly different than what you remembered.  She was shorter, hunched over, her eyes wide, vicious and manic in the flickering light of the burning buildings around you.  She snarled at you and pounced, claws set to tear. And you knew no more.


End file.
